Captured
by Redzik
Summary: AU for after first episode of season 3b. Contains Sterek if you want to see it that way. Or pack feels if you don't. What if Derek and Peter weren't captured by hunters, but by someone else?


This was supposed to be a longer fanfic, but sadly I don't have an inspiration. The idea for this came to me after watching the first episode of season 3B. Somewhere I read a speculation, that Derek and Peter were captured by Scott's father. I was disappointed that wasn't the case, but well, the idea remained. And who is going to rescue them? Like that's even a question :P  
Oh, and I don't have any medical knowledge, so I made it up :P

Enjoy.

**DISCLAIMER:** Teen Wolf and it's characters aren't mine.

* * *

If it weren't for somewhat supportive grip the FBI agent had on him, Stiles certainly would have take a tumble down the stairs as he was shoved through the basement door. The door closed behind him, leaving him and Scott's father in the darkness. Scott's father! Stiles still couldn't wrap his mind around that. The agent tightened his hold on him and dragged him down the steps.

"So not cool, man," the teenage complained. He had to talk nonsense for a few minutes and then he'll be useless and, hopefully, out of here. Just a few minutes. "You can't kidnap me and inject with a truth serum. It's illegal. You should know, being the big asshole of an agent."

Rafael McCall only sighed, leaving Stiles on the bottom of the stairs and reached to turn on the lights. Stiles blinked rapidly at the sudden brightness. He couldn't pale more, but went a little green as he spied the bloody tools and all kinds of knives lined on the table to his right.

"You want to add torture to the kidnapping and poisoning?" The boy asked sarcastically. "What the hell are you?"

"I want to ask you a few questions," the agent flipped another switch and gestured further into the room. Stiles froze at the sight.

At the back of the room was ceiling high part of the wired fence connected to something, that looked like power generator. Chained to the fence were Derek and Peter. They were covered in blood, their eyes glowing blue and canines showed as they snarled silently at the newcomers.

The teen swallowed. They all thought for weeks, that Derek left with Cora to somewhere. For weeks! How long the two werewolves were here, tortured? And where was Cora? Stiles looked around wildly. There was no one else besides them. He didn't know it was a bad or a good thing.

"Stiles!" Scott's father shouted.

"What?" The teen pulled from his thoughts and looked at the agent. He was near the table now, where he tossed his keys and phone, pulling a chair a little further into the room. Perfect.

"I asked you a question," the agent huffed.

"You did?" Stiles was glad he had been too distracted to notice. He needed to act fast. He had three minutes tops. Stiles jammed his hand into the pocket and gathered a small fistful of Mountain Ash. It was not supposed to work on humans, but all was in the believing, right? It had to work.

"Do you know about werewolves?" Rafael repeated the question, looking pleased as Stiles slowly moved towards him.

The teen licked his lips, thinking on the answer that will give nothing away. Not that it would matter in this situation, but still, "I don't know where the wolves are."

Peter snorted. Derek rolled his eyes. That was good. It meant they won't kill him as soon as he freed them. Right?

"Don't play games with me, Stiles," the FBI agent threatened.

"I'll play games with whomever I want," Stiles answered truthfully, letting the Mountain Ash fall on the floor. "And now I want to play with you."

"Don't test me kid."

"Or what?" the teen snorted, willing the Ash to form a circle around Scott's father. "You kill me? Oh, wait! You probably already have!"

"With what?" the agent scoffed. "With a little truth serum?"

"Dude! Couldn't you be more stupid? You don't mix truth serum with psychotropic drugs like, for example, Adderall."

Rafael seemed taken aback for a second and then he took a step closer in worry.

"Stiles," he reached his hand to the boy.

Stiles jumped back, just in case, and wavered on his feet. The agent walked into invisible barrier, that prevented him to move further.

"What the hell?" Scott's father demanded.

"What do you know, it worked!" Stiles smirked and staggered to the table. He leaned on it to keep himself standing. "Now, where do you...aha!" He grabbed the keys triumphantly and started inching his way to the werewolves, keeping to the table for support.

"Stiles!" agent McCall strained against the barrier. "Stiles! You don't know what are you doing! They're dangerous people!"

The teen didn't spare him any attention as he reached the end of the table and was eying the three meters of empty space between himself and Derek. He took a deep breath and pushed forward, "Here goes nothing."

Stiles stopped after two steps and clenched his eyes shut as the dizziness overtook him. He started to sway and drift when a growl brought him back to reality. He snapped his eyes open and looked straight into Derek's blue. The realization of that fact finally sinking in. When Derek lost his alpha powers?

"I missed those, you know," the teen stated, moving forward again.

"What?" Derek snapped.

"Those beautiful blue eyes of yours," Stiles answered. Oops. "Um... Can you not? Ask me questions?"

The werewolf rolled his eyes, grunting and flinching as the boy leaned on him heavily when he reached him.

"Sorry," Stiles mumbled into his chest. "You're hot."

"And you're cold," Derek huffed impatiently. "Hurry up and untie me."

"Mm," the teen hummed in agreement and straightened, reaching to werewolf's wrists and clumsily getting the cuffs open.

That done he slumped on Derek's shoulder. When the wolf tried to nudge him away, he wrapped his arms around his body and pulled himself closer.

"Stiles," Derek growled.

"You're really warm," the boy slurred. His time was up, "And so safe."

"Stiles!" Derek was moving them, but the teen couldn't care less. He was warm and safe and about to finally get some sleep.

* * *

The sight wasn't expected, but the sheriff wasn't too surprised as he tore into his son's room at the hospital. Stiles was in the bed, sleeping, not in any danger. Derek sat on the chair placed on the left side of the bed. He was leaned forward on his forearms, staring at Stiles like he would disappear if he took his eyes from him for even a second. Peter was leaning near the window, looking out. Both wolves were looking tired, disheveled but on guard, although without the usual aggressiveness.

"I appreciate your help," the sheriff stated, "but if you have better things to do..."

Derek's shoulders slumped defensively. Peter looked at his nephew, at sheriff and then back to the window.

"Alright?" the sheriff was confused. Usually the werewolves couldn't escape him fast enough.

"Your son is safe," Peter intoned in explanation.

"Yeah," Stilinski agreed, because duh! two werewolves in the room, and dragged a chair to the bed, opposed to Derek. "Yeah, he is."

Half an hour later he was forced to reevaluate that statement.

"Dad?" Stiles asked groggily.

"Hey, son," the sheriff smiled. "Gave us quite a scare."

"Not my fault," the teen defended, looking around the room. Peter and Derek didn't react. Just maintained their vigils. The sheriff could practically see the wheels turning in his son's head as he tried to puzzle out the continued presence of the werewolves. Finally the boy looked at Derek.

"You're hot," Stiles stated, shifting slightly. What, the sheriff thought shocked.

Derek twitched, startled from his thoughts, "You said that."

"I'm freezing here," Stiles complained meaningfully. Derek stared. "Come on," the boy encouraged.

Derek threw the stunned sheriff a hesitant look and very slowly got closer to the bed. Stiles moved until Derek was lying fully on his back and then settled on top of him, humming contently. Peter moved from the window to Derek's chair, which he placed as near the head of the bed as he could. Stiles brushed his arm as the older werewolf settled.

The sheriff observed the scene, not knowing what was going on or what to do. But then he noticed, that the wolves were more at ease now, relaxed even. And his son sprawled over Derek like he was protecting him. His son was indeed safe. Not just because he had werewolves to protect him. But because he was protecting them in return. That was... not surprising at all, he realized.

"Dad?" Stiles asked. "Could you maybe call Scott? The least he can do is to take a guard duty while they rest."

"Sure, son."

"And Deaton," Stiles mumbled, nuzzling into Derek's neck as he was falling asleep again. "Need to talk to him, too."


End file.
